


Hit Me Baby One More Time

by bry0psida



Series: Harringrove Advent [22]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas Party, M/M, Office Party, Stripping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:14:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21902074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bry0psida/pseuds/bry0psida
Summary: Steve doesn't wanna go to the office Christmas party. Heather makes him.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington/Billy Hargrove
Series: Harringrove Advent [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1558885
Comments: 17
Kudos: 115





	Hit Me Baby One More Time

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all know what this title's from

Steve’s dreading the office party tonight. He’s been working at his dad’s firm a couple months, just grunt work. Tom made it real clear he thought Steve was too stupid to do anything else. I _’m not doing you any more favours_ , he’d said. _You should be grateful I even gave you the job, there were far better candidates_. Tom’s not even gonna be there, but he’s making Steve go. Doesn’t want his son to make him look bad by not showing up. Whatever. Steve figures he’ll make a appearance, maybe stay less than an hour, blow it off and go get wasted with whoever’s around.

There’s only one upside to Steve’s job, and that’s Heather. She’s an intern, eternally grateful that Steve has to do all the petty degrading shit like coffee and food runs so she doesn’t have to. Heather’s a good time. Isn’t rude to him about the fact the only reason he got his job ‘cause of nepotism, always smacks him on the ass and demands _more coffee, bitch_. Steve threatened to file a sexual harassment complaint. Heather just laughed, tapped him on the cheek and said _you do that, sugar tits. Don’t forget the extra cream next time._

So his job’s not all that bad. Just mostly bad. Pay isn’t terrible, better than being stuck working as a cashier at a gas station or something.

At least Heather’s gonna be there tonight, she can make anything fun. She was ecstatic when she got put in charge of organising the party, threatened to inflict a number of unpleasant things on Steve if he didn’t show tonight. There’s no dress code and no one to impress so Steve doesn’t put a whole lot of effort into his outfit. Just some jeans, white t-shirt, a vaguely festive sweater, his green blue windbreaker and his favourite Nikes. His hair does itself.

Steve gets a cab there, doesn’t expect to be nearly sober enough to consider driving home once Heather’s done with him. He’s a little late on purpose. He has to interact with these assholes sober 5 days a week already, he’ll delay that if he can.

…

Steve’s pleasantly surprised. Heather’s outdone herself. Office doesn’t look like a depressing box for once. She managed to empty one of the bigger rooms, got all the tables against the walls, there’s a decent spread of booze and food. Mostly takeout but she’s definitely cooked a little. There’s a Christmas tree, a string of lanterns, the odd decorative knick knack. It’s kind of pretty.

Steve’s mostly hanging out by the booze. He’s picking through a takeout box from Panda Express, waiting for Heather to finish making the rounds and come hang out with him. Steve’s been here a good forty minutes, just wants to leave really. Heather near bit his head off when he tried ten minutes ago.

She makes a reappearance, grins at Steve in that self satisfied way she always does. Steve’s pretty buzzed, glad he brought a flask since most of the good booze is already gone. Heather skips over to him, yanks the box out of his lap and takes a swig from his flask, wipes her mouth with the back of her hand round a cough.

“Fuck, that’s good stuff.”

Steve snatches it back, crosses his legs. “How much longer do I have to stay?”

“You won’t wanna leave when you see who I’ve got coming,”

Steve’s got no idea what she’s talking about. They don’t have any mutual friends. He humors her. Heather kills the music with her phone, dashes across the room to dim the lights and shut the door. Everyone’s looking at each other all confused. The sound of sirens whoops from the hall, red and blue lights flash through the crack under the door. Steve has no idea what’s going on.

Someone kicks open the door. Steve knows it’s not a real police officer, the uniforms wrong for the city, and Steve’s pretty sure officers don’t cut the sleeves off their shirts. The dudes got shades on, a boombox on his shoulder with the flashing lights attached. He blows a bubble with his gum, lets it pop and kills the sirens, yanks off his shades all dramatic like he’s in a soap opera. “There’s been a noise complaint. Who’s party is this?”

Steve’d laugh if the guy wasn’t as hot as he is. Steve feels distinctly betrayed when Heather starts enthusiastically pointing at Steve. “He did! It’s his party!”

Steve glares at her. She grins back. He who shall be now known in Steve’s mind as hot guy crosses the room, swagger in his step. Hot guy sets the boombox on the floor, gets a boot on the chair next to Steve he’d pulled up for Heather. Hot guy leans into Steve’s space, his breath smells like artificial strawberry.

“What’s your name, sir?”

Steve can practically feel Heather vibrating behind him with excitement, decides to play along for her sake as much as his own. “My name’s Steve, officer.”

Hot guy arches a brow. “Well Steve, I’m officer Goodbody.” Heather sputters a laugh, Steve hears her hand smack against her mouth as she tries to hold the giggles in. Hot guy ignores her. “I’m gonna have to ask you to keep the noise down, I’d hate to arrest someone as pretty as you.” It’s cheesy, god awful, downright hilarious. Steve’s into it.

“‘Fraid I can’t do that, officer.” Hot guy looks more than a little pleased Steve’s playing along.

“Well, that’s a damn shame.”

Steve holds his wrists out, opens his eyes wide in mock innocence. “Are you going to arrest me?”

Hot guy smiles real wide, all teeth, whips the cheap cuffs off his belt. “You leave me no choice.” He steps behind Steve, guides his wrists behind his back and slips them on loose, loose enough Steve could slip his hands out if he wriggled. Hot guy whispers in his ear. “These are easy to break, you can get yourself out if you need to. Lemme know when you want ‘em off. Ok?” Steve nods. Hot guy’s breath is hot in his ear. Steve feels his cheeks heat.

Steve’s not paying even the slightest bit of attention to anyone else in the room. He’s enraptured, spellbound. Hot guy runs a hand through his mullet. Steve’s never seen anyone with a mullet outside of pictures. It’s working for him.

“Aren’t you going to read me my rights?” Steve asks. Hot guy chuckles. His laugh is husky, all gravel.

“You have the right to sit back, relax, and enjoy the show.” Hot guy takes off his pleather cop hat, perches it on Steve’s hair before pressing play on the boom box. Baby Hit Me One More Time by Britney starts playing. Steve wants to laugh, gets a little distracted when hot guy starts unbuttoning his shirt and swaying his hips to the beat. He whips it off when Britney starts singing, throws it at Heather. She squeals when she catches it. Hot guy’s got a routine, of course he has. Walks circles round Steve, ghosts a finger just above the skin, Steve leans into the touch. Hot guy trails it up his neck and along his jaw, pats him under the chin when Steve’s mouth drops open.

Hot guy spins away, rips off his tearaway pants when the second chorus starts. Guy’s fucking ripped is what he is, defined muscles rippling under near bronze skin, not a tan line in sight. He’s got a bright red thong on, leaves nothing to the imagination whatsoever. Hot guy turns around, backs it up. Steve was wrong, it’s not a thong, it’s a g string. _Oh my god_. He plants his sculpted ass in Steve’s lap, leans back, cups a hand round the back of Steve’s head and gazes at him longingly as he hump the air. Steve’s hard, hopes against all hope that hot guy doesn’t brush against it. He brushes against it, smiles impossibly wider.

He stands, turns, gets a hand on Steve’s shoulder and starts body rolling, still practically in Steve’s lap. They’re both sweating. Steve watches it bead on his chest and trickle between his pecs.

Hot guy takes the hand on Steve’s shoulder off, puts it behind him to support his weight, body rolls into the air some more, junk shifting beneath the satin fabric. The whole thing’s a little Magic Mike. Steve’s seen that movie more than he’s comfortable admitting to anyone that isn’t Heather.

He finishes the routine with a flourish, the office erupts into applause and cheers and the odd wolf whistle. Steve feels a little brain dead, all his blood is straight up in his dick. It’s exceptionally visible through his jeans, no denying it.

Hot guy bends over to fish the key to the cuffs out of his tearaway pants pocket. Steve enjoys the view, Heather hisses in his ear, “Oh my fucking _god_ Steve, you have to get his number.”

Steve hisses back, “What? No. He probably gets shit like that all the time.”

“I paid him to _dance_ , not lap dance. He charged extra for touching. You got free touching. He’s into you.”

Hot guy finds the key, saunters over. Heather flicks Steve on the ear, whispers a last _get his fucking number_ before dropping the dude’s shirt in Steve’s lap and walking away.

“Enjoy the show?” He asks, a little breathless. Steve nods at his crotch. Hot guy huffs a laugh.

Hot guy undoes Steve’s cuffs, touches his hands a little longer and more frequently than Steve thinks is necessary as he slips them off. Not that he’s complaining.

Steve hands him back the shirt, laments the loss of the view as he shrugs it back on.

“You come here often?” Hot guy asks. Steve appreciates the awful line being taken so he doesn’t have to use it.

“I work here,”

“You like it?”

“Not at all, no. You like your job?”

“I love it,”

“You got any more of these tonight?”

“You’re my last one, actually.”

Hot guy is refastening the velcro on his tearaway pants round his legs. Steve goes for it.

“You uh, wanna go get a drink? Or something?”

Hot guy gets his pants on, licks his lips as he looks Steve up and down. “You buying?” Steve nods rapidly. Hot guy holds out a hand, Steve takes it. “Then lets go.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote the bulk of this yesterday before getting hit by a big old wave of depression. Didn't have the energy to edit super well today and kind of rushed the ending. Hope I didn't ruin it.
> 
> And yes, Officer Goodbody was shamelessly stolen from Friends.
> 
> [Tumblr](https://bry0psidawrites.tumblr.com) [Twitter](https://twitter.com/bryopsida)


End file.
